The Crow's Chronicles
by Teion
Summary: An older generation of huntsmen, before RWBY, before Cinder. A collection of stories following accomplished Beacon Academy graduate, Qrow Branwen. Follow the scythe wielder as he hunts all manner of Grimm across Remnant, meets new friends and villains, comes to understand his role as a huntsman, and transforms into the veteran huntsman we know.
1. Prologue

The night was silent, save for the whistle of the wind across the snowy plain. Like all winter nights, it was dark, and cold; by principle, the most unfavorable conditions for travel on foot. Setting up camp would have normally been the appropriate call, several hours ago, but Qrow didn't bring anything to substitute even the basics of camping essentials besides arguably his cape and weapon. _Perhaps I should have partnered with Summer,_ he thought, _could probably have made a tent for four with her cloak._ He grinned at his quip, but it did little to warm him on his freezing march. The young huntsman decided instead of freezing to death attempting to use a sheet of snow as a bed, he would simply take his chances and press on until he reached the town of Clive, but at this point a cave wasn't even out of the question if it meant getting out of this cold. He had severely miscalculated how long it would take to reach Clive on foot; he hypothesized he would be entering the town at… he glanced at the moon to get an idea of the time... right about now. Qrow sighed in irritation at his accumulating number of bad calls in one night. The full moon seemed to be the only thing granting him mercy in this dark, cold night, far from home.

Qrow squinted his eyes as he saw movement in the distance, closing in. Its erratic behavior and speed suggested it wasn't anything related to a human, and its size suggested it wasn't going to be a nice animal either. _That narrows it down,_ he thought as he pulled his weapon around from the small of his back. He slid his hands up and down the leather-wrapped hilt in an attempt to warm it and his hands before he'd have to use it, continually walking forward. The creature was wasting no time closing the distance between them, close enough that its glowing red eyes and white mask could easily be seen. His suspicions were confirmed; it was definitely a beowolf. It, like all grimm, was a pure black monster that wore a bone white mask; but unlike other grimm types, it resembled a canine, if a canine could walk on its hind legs, had spikes of bone protruding out of its arms and spine, and claws that could tear a man open in a single swipe. It was a weaker grimm on the totem pole, which was a horrifying thought if one spent too much time on it, as even just one could be the death of several unlucky people in an unprotected town, and they usually weren't alone. But this one, may be an exception. The beowolf finally spotted the huntsman and skidded to a halt, about 25 meters away from him, glaring at him directly in the eyes. He stopped as well, aimed his weapon to his right, and extended it to its full longsword form. He stared right back at the beowolf, as though if he stared hard enough, the beowolf would back down and pass on. Unfortunately, no understanding between man and beast would be found here. The monster stood on its hind legs, and confidently howled and growled into the night sky, challenging the huntsman. The young grimm had no idea how outmatched it really was. _This is going to be too easy,_ he thought.

Qrow felt a twinge of excitement, a feeling he had not felt since long before he had enrolled at Beacon academy. This would be the first grimm he will have killed since graduating Beacon, this would be the first grimm he will have killed as a true huntsman. He was suddenly feeling more theatrical, and pulled a lever on the hilt. The weapon responded with a sequence of mechanical sounds as gears shifted each other into place, the blade extended between its creases, then curled upwards into a scythe, a razor sharp red blade exposed itself as the finishing touch of a double edged scythe. Once the transformation of the blade was complete, Qrow reflexively moved his hand on the hilt slightly behind him before the rest of the weapon transformed. The hilt extended from the top and bottom, revealing two more red leather grips like the original, all bound to a black metal shaft making the snath of the scythe, which curved only slightly outward. With the transformation complete, he slowly rotated the scythe around himself, slicked his bangs back, placed his left hand on the lower grip, held it in front of him, and assumed a combat stance; all complete with his signature, complacent grin, taunting the grimm.

The beowolf accepted his challenge, and broke into a sprint towards him with a bark. The huntsman responded by running towards the creature as well, holding his weapon to his right with the blade behind him, facing toward the ground as his form demanded. The distance closed quickly, and the grimm went all in, lunging straight towards him with both claws ready to tear open his chest. He effortlessly dodged such a sloppy attack to the left, and using his forward momentum, pulled his scythe through a horizontal slash straight through its abdomen. The grimm froze in place standing up, but its hunter wasn't nearly finished. Qrow, coming from behind, added an additional slash going upward from between its legs and through its skull in a millisecond; while on the momentum of a counterclockwise spin, followed up with a diagonal, downward slash going from its right shoulder through its left hip. Qrow pulled the lever on the middle grip once again, and the blade quickly retracted into its simpler, straighter form, the red razor sliding back into its place inside the blade, and the snath sliding back together forming a single grip once again; he slowed his final spin so the transformation could complete for his finishing attack. He gripped the hilt with both hands and slammed the flat of the blade into the beowolf's back, the sheer force blasting the grimm in its precisely cut pieces away.

Blood painted the snow in front of him; small puddles of the liquid began to form from the pieces that were strewn about, a leg there, half a head here… he stood up straight and rested his sword on his shoulder, striking an almost heroic pose. But after a moment, his smug grin shifted into an oddly disappointed frown, his brow furrowed, and he scratched his head.

"That…" he pondered for a moment, "Didn't feel any different," he said aloud.

Qrow collapsed his sword into a shortened, more portable version, and holstered it upon his lower back with a disappointed hmph. That beowolf may have been the first since graduation, but it was definitely not the first in any other regard. He probably killed hundreds of beowolves during his time at Beacon alone, enough that it felt as natural to him as brushing his teeth. In fact, the only difference between that one and all the others, was his execution, and that it was terrible. He was far too flashy, used way more strikes than necessary for a single beowolf, and exerted much more energy than needed. He could expect a full lecture on technique if he were to show that display in class; Professor Draven would have been ashamed of his true huntsman. Qrow took a look around, just to make sure his old teacher wasn't hiding under a sheet of snow waiting to chew him out. After a moment of silence, he moved on from his silly paranoia, and began marching towards Clive once again. It was still a long ways away, Qrow recalculated, he should at least be able to make it there by morning.


	2. The Huntsman: Part I

As the sun began to peek over the horizon, visibility improved, but no noticeable warmth came to greet the young huntsman. Even in the latter end of the winter, the cold never really changed, but soon none of that would matter. Through the smell of the ocean, the faint sound of waves crashing against the cliff side and seagulls looking for their breakfast in the distance, and of course, the silhouettes of the village within eyesight, he was able to tell he was close to Clive. He even managed to reconnect to the dirt road that people who usually had a wagon or vehicle would normally take. Of course that also ran the risk of being the obvious route to be ambushed by bandits, but it would be hard to complain when the alternative is getting lost in the wilderness with the monsters. Qrow, confident in his navigation and capability to protect himself, took shortcuts off the beaten path. However if anyone who didn't have his training attempted such a journey, they likely wouldn't have survived very long after the sun went down.

As Qrow finally crossed into the threshold of the town, he noticed there were no guards about, or evidence that they existed here. It's not something that's unheard of, especially in small villages like this, but it does make it more clear why a huntsman would be needed here from time to time. It was still a little dark, the sun was just under halfway over the horizon of the sea, so naturally it seemed no one was up and about. The farmers might be up at this time, but there's no farms within the vicinity of the village. Qrow stopped automatically walking to grant himself a moment to think, and looked around for where to begin. The village wasn't ginormous in any regard, but large enough for a village that seemed to accomodate maybe a little under thirty houses, plus a few businesses separate from the homes. Most of the buildings were made of sturdy wood, with wood roofs; however the poorer residents clearly, would end up separating themselves with a more thatch based roof, and shoddier maintenance. It wasn't really compact like some villages, when the houses were built, the neighbors seemed like they wanted to give each other some room to breathe. The houses were a bit spaced out from each other, especially compared to the bustling city of Vale to which Qrow was accustomed, making the village look far larger than it actually was. Towards the edge of the town was a large circular plaza, which hugged the cliffside viewpoint; it sported a standard stone well in the center, and a few closed merchant stalls, likely all food based. This village just might be large enough to have— _ah yes, thank the heavens, an inn,_ he thought. Easily indicated as the only fairly wide and two story building in the entire area, and a swinging sign above the door which displayed a silhouette of a seagull and text spelling out _The Clive Point Inn_. He tiredly dragged himself down the road away from the cliffside, towards the inn.

Qrow violently pushes the wooden door open and it slams into the wall bouncing off from it, shaking a nearby coat rack. A pretty innkeeper practically jumped up from leaning on the bar, dropping her book from her hands; clearly startled by the door blasting open and a rugged huntsman with dark circles under his eyes standing like a reaper at the doorway. She was definitely not expecting anyone to come in at the wee hours of the morning, and had been relaxing for a number of hours.

"Oh my!" the innkeeper quietly shouted as she recovered from her scare, "Ah, welcome," she greeted courteously.

The sleep deprived huntsman said nothing, and stared at her for a few seconds, blinking with what can only be described as an exhausted facial expression. He slowly looked around, the place was completely empty, save for the tables, chairs, and tankards. He found what he was looking for, spotting the dying fire at the end of the dining area. He ignored the innkeeper's gaze, and began stumbling towards the flame, desperate for its warmth like a moth to a light. Without taking his eyes off the fire, he grabbed a chair from one of the closest tables and dragged it along the wooden floor with an uncomfortably loud scrape. He slid the chair as close to the fireplace as he could without burning his knees off, or bumping his head on the stone arch. He dropped down in the chair, leaned far forward towards the flame, and finally warmed his frozen hands as much as he could. The innkeeper approached from behind, keeping a respectable distance away from a man who had clearly had a very long day.

"Would, would you like anything? Perhaps stoke the fire for you?" she offered kindly.

The tired huntsman took a moment finding the words before he could respond, "No, no, thank you, I'll only be here for a second," he said, managing to force out his response.

"Ok, I'll be over here if you need anything," she cheerily replied and began to walk away.

"Wait. How much for a night here?" his eyes almost giving away a desperate 'please' as he said that.

"A night? The sun's coming up."

Qrow squeezed the bridge of his nose, irritated that he'd have to rephrase himself, "How much does it cost for me to have a room for the next twenty four hours?"

"Well, it would be 35 lien."

He began wrestling for his wallet from his back pocket, leaning over in his chair and trying to force his way past his shirt tails. He eventually managed, amazing the innkeeper at his success, and pulled all his cash out. He slowly counted out 35 lien, making absolutely sure his tired mind didn't make a mistake, and slowly handed the plastic cards to her. She took them, and recounted it to make sure he didn't make a mistake, in blinding speeds by comparison.

"Let me show to your room," she said with a friendly smile.

She turned on her heel and began walking, but not full speed giving the tired Qrow a chance to stand up and follow. He swung forward placing his hands on his knees, then pushing off of them in order to get himself back onto his feet, then turned to follow the innkeeper who began walking at full speed. She led him past the dining areas, then around the bar, where a U shaped flat turn staircase led to the second floor. Up the stairs where two hallways led to a multitude of different rooms, one hall to the left and one to the right; with a small area directly in front of them with a stained glass window, and a small table that could only fit a vase with a bouquet of flowers and two chairs facing diagonally towards the stairs next to it. The innkeeper suddenly stopped, taking a second to think about where she was actually going; maybe she was a little tired too. She let out a small _ah_ and continued down the left corridor. She stopped around halfway down and opened a door which only felt random to Qrow, as the rooms weren't numbered or marked in any way here.

"And here you are, if you need anything feel free to come back down to the bar, me or my sister should always be around."

He narrowed his eyes and gave a satisfied smile to the sight of his room, "Ah, this will do nicely, and there's even a sister."

The innkeeper raised an eyebrow quizzically, not entirely sure what he meant by that.

"Thank you very much," he continued, looking her in the eye warmly to get his sincerity across. "Would you care to spend the night with me?" he asked with a grin.

"I-I beg your pardon?" asked the innkeeper in a flustered voice; she no longer could maintain eye contact with him, and her face began to flush red.

"Nevermind," Qrow giggled at his tease, "It's already morning anyway. Have a good...morning," he said as if correcting himself.

As he slowly closed the door, he noticed the pretty girl practically scurry away towards the staircase to escape any further embarrassment at the hands of the rugged huntsman. Done with that entertaining interaction, he turned around and stretched, pulled his weapon from his back, and placed it against the foot of the bed.

"I might have to spend two nights here," he quipped with a smile, thinking of the innkeeper's cute reaction to his teasing.

That thought reminded him, he looked inside his wallet to see how much lien he had left, 115 lien; enough until he made it back to Vale? He hoped. Qrow took a look at the room he was in, fairly simple living compared to what you might find in the city. An inelegant coatrack stood to the left of the door, along with two equally inelegant wooden chairs that sat against the wall. The bed didn't look too bad however, it was a double, the wooden bedframe wasn't anything special, but the velvet blankets and the fluffy snow white pillows were easy on the eyes, and he looked forward to falling in it. A small window across from the door overlooked the street in front of the inn, he noticed the day was already beginning to look much brighter than it was just ten minutes ago. Qrow swiped the curtains closed, the imminent sunlight would definitely keep him awake. He then began to remove his clothing, starting with his dress shoes, moving on to his gray dress shirt, and finally his black dress pants. He carefully folded them, placed them gently on a nearby chair, and neatly tucked his shoes under it. These were all the only clothes he decided to bring on this journey, he didn't want them to become wrinkled. His hand reached for his upper chest, just to make sure his necklace was still there; he then looked at the rings on his right hand, deciding whether or not he wanted to take them off when he slept. _Nah,_ he decided, he didn't want to risk losing them.

He went back to his pants to pull his scroll out, pulling it open he saw the time. _Damn, it's already 6:20,_ he thought. He decided to have some mercy on himself and set an alarm for 1:00 P:M, he was in no hurry to fight grimm sleep deprived. He set his scroll on the nightstand, and finally got off his feet. The tired huntsman slipped under the covers, laid down on the pillow with both of his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes.

A utilitarian beeping noise resonated throughout the small room, waking the huntsman. He reflexively shot up to a sitting position in his bed, knowing that if he allowed himself to lay down, it would only have him fall back asleep. He forced himself to climb out of the bed in an instant, almost robotically as if he was one of those androids from Atlas. Now on his feet, he turned off his alarm. 1:00 P:M, right on schedule. It was unfortunately late into the day due to the late night last night, but hopefully he could catch up on it. Sunset would arrive in a matter of hours.

Down below, the once empty inn was now bustling with activity. Around half filled with villagers that were currently on their lunch break, complete with laughing, loud talking, and midday drinking. Qrow came down the stairs fully dressed and groomed, and his weapon holstered on his back; now instead of dragging himself place to place, he was now moving with a sense of purpose. He noticed immediately a different innkeeper occupied the bar, and it was safe to say this was the sister. She looked more mature, with her brown hair pulled up into a bun, instead of let down to her back. Noticing he was coming down the stairs, she gave him a courteous smile and nod as he approached.

"Good afternoon, is there anything I can help you with?" she asked politely.

"Breakfast would be a start," he responded in a gruff voice.

"Oh," she now realized he only just woke up, "What would you like?" she said gesturing towards the wooden menu board above the bar.

"I'll go with a quarter loaf of bread and an omelette with sausages and pepper. What do you have to drink?"

"Well we have ale, mead, a few different wines, rum, whiskey—"

"I meant, something non-alcoholic," he said sharply cutting her off. While he would like a beer he has a job to do, and he needs to hydrate himself at least a little for today.

"Uh, well in that case, we have water and milk," she answered with a shrug to her voice.

Qrow closed his eyes and barely shook his head in disappointment of the lacking selection, a real backwater town compared to what he was accustomed to, "Water will be fine."

"Great. So that'll be a quarter loaf of bread, an omelette with sausages and black pepper, and… water. Will there be anything else?"

"No," he replied already beginning to walk away.

He went towards the tables looking for somewhere to sit, preferably alone so he could eat in peace. Scratch that, he noticed the innkeeper from last night eating her lunch by herself at the corner window table, and she in return noticed him as well walking by looking at her. She smiled and waved welcoming him.

"Hi there," she greeted in an upbeat voice, "Sleep well?"

"No thanks to your patrons, yes," he answered jocularly.

"That's good to hear," she said as she giggled at his remark, "Sorry it tends to get kinda lively down here around this time."

"So I've noticed," he replied dryly, sitting down at her table across from her, surprising her with the unforeseen company.

She was eating a simple ham sandwich, quite thin, with only a few pieces of lettuce as a topping, along with a small mug of mead to the side. She wasn't drinking it to get drunk, it simply went with her lunch better than a glass of milk. She still seemed to be in uniform, which involved a button up white puff short sleeve shirt, with a open black vest over it. Her white shirt draped over her black pleated skirt, which just barely came above knee length, and she wore brown leather, knee high boots that were fastened by small buckles and a zipper. She had long brown wavy hair that went to the middle of her back, with shorter bangs, which allowed her green eyes to be seen.

"So…" she realized she needed to respark the conversation beyond simple passing greetings, "What's your name?"

"Qrow."

"So, what are you doing in Clive?" she asked curiously trying to get past his short answers.

"I've got a job to do here, I solve problems. I'm looking for Stanley Lloyd, can you help me?"

"Oh!" she responded surprised, "Oh my! Are you the huntsman?"

"That's right," he grinned as his ego was stroked. It felt good to be recognized as a true huntsman.

"I should have realized, with your large weapon. Huntsmen usually don't come through here you see, you weren't what I expected; I assumed you were a mercenary or something."

"What did you expect exactly?" he asked curiously.

"Uhh," She searched for the answer, but actually seemed a bit stumped, "I'm not entirely sure. Maybe someone who was a bit more… stoic? A little more, hero or warrior looking maybe? I've sort of grown up reading the storybooks, where heroes fight the monsters, and protect people," she explained, finicking with her hands and avoiding eye contact

Qrow looked at her with a teasing grin, and raised an eyebrow at her response.

"Oh, excuse me," she realized she indirectly insulted him, "I didn't mean—"

"I hope I live up to your expectations," he said giving a wink, reassuring her he wasn't insulted.

She looked away blushing again, returning to her mead.

"Anyway," he said getting back on topic, "Stanley Lloyd. Can you help me find him?"

"Oh right!" she said remembering he was mentioned, "That's my father actually, he owns this inn."

"Okay, and that makes you Miss Lloyd?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, my name is Tawnie, just Tawnie is fine. Would you like me to take you to—"

"Preferably," he said cutting her off once again, "After my breakfast. I had a very long night last night, and I am very hungry."

"Oh, of course. Out of curiosity, what _did_ happen last night? You arrived so late and you looked so tired," she asked, clearly excited to hear the tales of a traveling huntsman.

Qrow smiled, and was all too happy to oblige to enjoy the attention. Over his breakfast, he told her all manner of stories concerning his time at Beacon Academy; his initiation, his team STRQ, the more interesting parts of his training, the different missions him and his team embarked upon, and most interesting to her, the monsters he has fought. Once he was sure he had thoroughly impressed her, he explained to her what did happen last night; the miscalculations, the missteps, the brutal journey that had to be taken as a result, and the beowolf he had killed along the way. Tawnie giggled at the more comical side of his adventures saying, "You really thought you could get all the way to Clive on foot before sundown?" The two talked for a while until he finished his breakfast; feeling rejuvenated and rehydrated, he was ready to get to work.

"Tawnie, could you show me to your father now?"

"Of course."

She led him to the _Employees Only_ area on the first floor, where a closed door lied that she knocked upon, and a gruff voice told her to come in. Stanley stood up from his desk, greeting his daughter, and his only slightly expected guest. He was a slightly older man, as indicated by the wrinkles under his eyes and on his forehead, and his graying hair. He was clean shaven, and had short hair; with a simple outfit only consisting of the inn standard white button up shirt, tucked into gray slacks, and basic black shoes he was comfortable working in.

"Hi there, Pa," Tawnie began, "I just wanted to introduce you to the huntsman you asked for, his name is Qrow…" she paused and her eyes squinted looking at him, searching her mind for a last name she wasn't sure she ever heard.

"Branwen," Qrow said cutting her off, "The name's Qrow Branwen, and you, must be Stanley Lloyd."

"That's correct," he responded, "Please, sit," he said indicating towards a chair in front of the desk. "Tawnie, you may leave us."

She realized that was the polite way to say 'Please leave us,' and walked out closing the door behind her. The two men stared at each other, deciding who should begin first, after a few seconds, the huntsman decided to have the honors.

"So. You need a huntsman?"

"I don't. We all do."

"We?" Qrow inquired.

"All the citizens of Clive. People are in danger," Stanley emphasized.

"Right, of course," he replied in a mildly apologetic tone, "Let's start from the beginning. What's happening?" he said leaning forward.

The middle aged man leaned forward, with his elbows on the desk, remaining quite serious, "We have several caravans coming in and out, that never seem to make it past the Pearl Forest. We have hunters, and even hunting parties who wander into the forest and never come back, along with some others who wandered there. A group of five men went to investigate the forest, and they've been gone for days…"

"How many days?" Qrow interrupted.

"Umm," Stanley broke eye contact, thinking on his answer, "Today would be the, eighth day they've been gone. They were the last ones we're allowing to go at all."

"I see. Go on."

"That's about all there is Mr. Branwen. We can't lose any more people to this, so that's when we requested a huntsman."

Qrow leaned back thinking on all this, "Hmm. Do you think it's grimm?" he asked.

"I'm not entirely sure, we don't know all that much. It doesn't really seem human to me, it's not like bandits to be attacking hunting parties and random wanderers, I don't see the point, but it doesn't really matter. Whatever this is, we need a huntsman, you'll help us won't you?" he almost pleaded.

Qrow didn't answer, staying silent for a moment thinking, "Has anyone ever come back?"

"Just one."

Qrow leaned back forward interested at this development, "Who?"

"He's one of the hunters, one of the hunting parties. Poor guy, him and his three friends went into the forest, only he came back. He's barely said a word since he's returned, would hardly even tell us what happened. Just that something in the forest, killed his friends."

"Some _thing,_ " the huntsman repeated curiously, "When did this happen?"

"Around a week and a half ago, a few days before we sent out a group to investigate, and look for all the missing people."

"Where is he?"

"He's in the dining area. He'll be the one who has the table to himself, a mug of ale, and the thousand yard stare."

Qrow stood up and began to walk towards the door.

"Will you help us?" Stanley asked again.

"I'll look into it," he answered monotone.

The huntsman walked into the dining area, looking for his only lead on the Clive disappearances. Most tables sporting the exact opposite of what he was looking for, tables full of people and friends laughing, those happily eating lunch. There he is, towards the middle of the dining area, window table, his mug pushed aside, and him spacing out staring into the street. He was a bit chubby, and had more round facial features, a juvenile beard along his jawline and neck, and a thin moustache. He had an unkempt bowl cut, that went around halfway over his ears, halfway down his neck, and just above his brown eyes. Qrow walked over and looked at him, he could tell the mug was empty, and he still hadn't noticed him walk right up to him. Qrow disregarded pleasantries and loudly dropped onto the wooden bench right across from him, lightly startling him and grabbing his attention.

"Oh. Hello," the survivor greeted in a somber tone, "Did, you need something?"

"I'm a huntsman."

The survivor stopped looking down at the table, and looked up at him, his face showing a small bit of hope, "A huntsman? Are you here about—?"

"Yes," Qrow said cutting him off, "I want you to tell me everything that happened that night, from beginning to end."

The survivor swallowed, and sighed, mentally preparing himself to relive it, "Alright. Last week, I think it was, me and three others formed a hunting party, for food and hide. We had heard about the disappearances in the Pearl Forest, but we ignored the warnings. We needed to make a living, and we thought it would be fine if we all went together."

The survivor paused, but Qrow said nothing, looking expectantly and allowing him to continue.

"We hunted all day and we only managed to get three rabbits, once it got dark we set up camp so we could try again in the morning. Flann was none too happy about our yield, all day growling and yelling 'This won't be worth shit, all you bastards will be eating this before we even make it back!' At camp Flann was still moaning and groaning about it, and eventually Urdin had had it, and told Flann to stop yapping and shut his gob, he was sick of hearing him bitch. Flann and Urdin start getting into it, and I stayed out of it just warming myself by the fire. Suddenly I could… hear something running up to us, something big."

Qrow leaned in, now interested in the details.

"I looked past Flann and Urdin to see what it was, but it was so dark I couldn't see anything beyond the fire. That's when…" he stopped, as the memory became painful to relive and continued, "Whatever it was, Flann didn't even get a look at it, before it grabbed him in one swipe and knocked over Urdin. It was still dark and I couldn't see it but… I could see those red eyes. Flann started screaming, it roared at us and then…" he paused again, desperately trying to control himself, "Then, it ran Flann right through the stomach with its arm, and tossed him aside like a toy. Urdin grabbed his spear and stabbed it somewhere, then the creature pulled out the spear, grabbed him and threw him into the darkness. It ran over to him, I couldn't see it, but I could… _hear_ it eating him! I looked over at Donovan, not knowing what to do, but then… _another_ one, grabbed him by the shoulders, pulled him back into the black, and started tearing him apart," At this point it was taking everything he had to avoid breaking down into tears, "I-I-I didn't know what to do, and I ran. I just ran away into the forest, I didn't know where I was going and I just ran. I could still hear them growling and howling as I ran away, I could still hear Urdin and Donovan screaming for their lives. So I just ran away all over the forest just trying to get away, I had no idea where I was going until the sun started to come up. I just spent all night focused on running away from whatever those things were. Eventually I made it out of the forest, and I started to make my way to town, and, and, and—"

"Hey," Qrow said softly, "That's enough, you don't have to go on."

The survivor breathed deeply and sighed, and wiped his eyes, "Thank you, I hoped… that helped," he said, relieved to be finished.

"Do you remember anything else, about how it looked?" the huntsman asked hopefully.

His face darkened again, "I… it was so dark, I couldn't…" he stammered.

"Anything at all can help, even its height. You said you saw its red eyes, could you tell how tall it was?"

His face started to fill with fear again, as he forced himself to picture those red eyes, anything he could think of to help the huntsman, "It… was standing up, and it was tall. It must have been around ten feet."

"What about the second one? Was it the same? Did it look just as big?"

"Y-yes. They looked about the same I think, or at least I didn't notice a big difference."

"Thank you," Qrow said sincerely, "I think that's all I need to know," he said as he stood up from the bench.

"I, really hope it helps," the survivor said relieved to be finally finished.

"One last thing," the huntsman said looking back at him, "Your camp, where is it? Can you show it to me?"

The survivor's face paled slightly, and his eyes widened, "N-no. I… I can't go back there, please," he pleaded.

"Relax," Qrow said reassuringly, "I understand, just try your best to tell me where it is."

"Follow the road out of town along the cliffside, to the Northeast. Once you've crossed into the Pearl Forest, keep going until you seen the sign and the intersection, which is connected to a side path. Follow that side path, and somewhere along it you'll find our camp. I think you'll know it when you see it."

"Thank you," Qrow said sincerely. "What's your name?" he asked.

"My name? It's… it's Bo."

"Bo," he said with a look of determination on his face. "I'm going to make those things pay for what they did to your friends. I promise."

Bo gave away a small smile while looking at him, "Thank you."

 _This isn't good,_ Qrow thought. What we're dealing with here is almost definitely some beowolves; he considered it may have been a pair of ursai, the bear like grimm do like to travel in pairs, and the description almost fit. However, Flann's death would rule that out, an ursa can't impale their victims with their arms, all their limbs are simply too short. That leaves the beowolf, but no ordinary beowolves, these were alphas, their behaviors and Bo's description of their height confirms this. Alpha beowolves were grimm that have survived long enough to ascend from their animal stage, through their experiences they have evolved, and they have learned. They would be tougher, deadlier, and worst of all, smarter. Were these alphas clever to the point that they began to work together? It was a horrifying, but plausible thought. A single alpha can just be another day in the office, but two? And two that were likely working together, and formulating hunting strategies? It wasn't going to be easy. Normally mature grimm don't bother with mindlessly attacking humans, unless they think they can survive the encounter— which they usually can— and the consequences. This is why you won't normally find mature grimm attacking the walls; they won't start fights they don't realistically think they can win, and even then, they even consider the fact that we make up for our deaths in numbers, and we will come back for them.

He ran through his conclusions of the story in his head. Clive, a relatively small, isolated town some distance from the main kingdom. Without military or huntsman support from Vale, practically unguarded. Clive is home to a small but competent population, seems to be the home of many hunters, or perhaps formerly at this point. Maybe even enough that the town can defend itself from the occasional beowolf or creep if the town has a militia to keep the town itself secure. The alphas observe this, and instead of mindlessly attacking the town so noticeably, they reside in the Pearl Forest and bide their time. Picking off wanderers and groups that strayed too far from the town, into the veil of the forest; _straight out of a horror movie script,_ he thought. Bo and his party go into the forest to hunt, and through unsuccessful hunts, and a bad argument, they were generating a lot of negativity. Sadness, disappointment, anger, this attracted the alphas effectively making them the hunted.

He had everything he needed, it was time to go. He thought he should leave quickly, it was already 2:00, it would be dark soon.


	3. The Huntsman: Part II

_Back into the nice and damn cold,_ Qrow thought. He had been making his way towards where he was told the campground was, taking in the sights of the cliffside as he went. Finally crossing into the Pearl Forest, there was still some time left before the sun went down, it was nearly touching the horizon however. It didn't take him long to find the sign and "intersection" Bo spoke of. It was a simple wooden sign that stood about seven feet off the ground, with arrows pointing in both directions down and up the road. One arrow pointing to the right read _Clive_ , the other pointing left, was incomprehensible. The text had long faded away, and the wood was weathered and rotted. Perhaps it led to a village that didn't exist anymore? Some villages merely don't have either the geography or the means to defend themselves from grimm attacks, and it isn't unheard of them to disappear overnight. He looked behind him and saw the path Bo spoke of, it was quite narrow, couldn't even accommodate a horse. Following along the trail for a while, he eventually saw what looked like a collapsed tent off the beaten path, that had to be it. As he approached it, he saw what could only be described as a cold trail.

Two weeks isn't a long time for normal people, but it was a decade for a decomposing body, and it may have well have been a millennia for someone trying to pick up a trail. The tent had collapsed and was tattered through weathering the elements, the campfire in the center had burned out long ago. The bodies were naturally the most disturbing thing here, the winter here had only preserved them slightly as their skin rotted and cracked. The cold here seemed to deter the insects, so at least they were spared the maggots thus far. Qrow was only somewhat experienced in being among the dead, he had seen the skeletons of a long dead abandoned village, he had seen the fresh dead of criminals and terrorists, or their victims. But the rotting? The somewhat recently dead? He had never strode across a battlefield or a crime scene this old. This was new to him, the stench of it distracted him and ate away at his composure. Walking up to the first body, he kneeled down and examined it. The face was almost completely unrecognizable at this point due to the decomposure, probably even to friends and family, but Qrow knew who it was. According to Bo's story, this was Flann; indicated by the massive hole through his abdomen. The alpha's claw practically went clean through him, then tearing more of him back out as it retracted its claw. Destruction of plenty of the vital organs, and he probably bled out; it was safe to say he likely died quickly. Next body was just as recognizable, but the positioning suggested it was Urdin, judging by the short distance from Flann. The body was spread eagle on the ground, with his chest destroyed. Upon closer examination, it appeared that the chest and abdomen was torn open and his insides were completely decimated. Qrow looked closely and was able to pinpoint what appeared to be some bite marks towards the edge of his wounds, and some more on his ribs and less destroyed organs; if he was lucky he probably went unconscious from shock before dying, if he wasn't lucky, it would have been a slow and gruesome death indeed. He was thinking this was definitely Urdin, he was the one that was being eaten alive; of course the alpha didn't finish his meal, because grimm don't seem to eat humans for sustenance. Humans are simply their only desired prey, their own survival or needs seem to be irrelevant, or even nonexistent; judging by the fact that they have been known to go months or years without encountering any humans and still live on. That alpha _chose_ to eat Urdin, a truly frightening thought.

Qrow stood up and looked for the last body, that was strange, it appeared to be missing; it shouldn't have been that far from the campfire according to Bo's story. He looked around more closely for any clues, on the other end of the campfire, he saw one; obscured drag marks that the snow hadn't completely buried, almost invisible to the untrained eye. Following along them for a few meters, directed him to where the body was; not terribly far from the campsite, but farther away than he expected it to be. If Bo's account holds up, it must have torn him up, then dragged him over here for some reason, the other way around doesn't add up. He approached the body and inspected it closer, instead of a chest crater like Urdin was sporting, Donovan was looking like a frayed cat post. His chest had been completely torn open, covered in an array of downward lacerations and claw marks, exposing his ribs and insides, and flaying much of his skin. He fortunately wouldn't have survived long, his lungs and heart definitely took a beating here, a destroyed heart was the most likely cause of death. Unfortunately the dragging ended here, and there was no immediate indication of where this alpha went next. The huntsman began looking around the general area for anything he could pick up on, tracks, a blood trail, anything. Fate was not being kind here, the trail was too cold. Anything he may have been able to pick up on was buried in the snow more than a week ago, and even if he did find something, it may have been so old it wouldn't lead anywhere important anyway. Qrow sighed in frustration at this, perhaps his only lead seemed to be a dead end. Suddenly in the distance he saw an anomaly, a marking on a tree that resembled a slanted roman numeral _III._ He quickly approached it, inspecting the marking. One of the alphas seemed to have left a claw mark in this tree, its size matched the profile, can't say why. Marking of territory? Boredom? If it was marking its territory than he was definitely on the right track, by loitering in it. He looked around to see if it had made a habit of leaving a trail, instead he saw something better, something worse.

A bloodied corpse of a young man, sat slumped up to another tree. Qrow approached the body to examine it, it seems he died very recently; judging by the freshness of the corpse, and the dried blood on the tree and ground, it could have just happened this morning. This one met a similar fate to Donovan, except this one had the chance to run; as indicated by two sets of tracks showing they were sprinting, one human, one animal. He also had claw lacerations on random portions of his body, some on his limbs coming at different angles, a couple in different places on his black, and a couple of the killing blows on his chest. He seems to have bled out while slumped against the tree, a pool of dry blood laid beneath him. Qrow took another look around to see if this trail went anywhere, and to his luck it did. A set of faint animal tracks and a trail of blood dots led away from the body; it's likely the blood was dripping from its claws as it left, he was close.

He began to follow his new lead, and checked the sun as he did so. It was almost completely set, by the time he found his targets, they would be completely in their element; but that wouldn't stop him though, these murders end tonight. Following the blood trail, the blood spots eventually were too few and far between to be followed any longer, instead now relying on the faint canine tracks. Weaving through a large thicket of trees, coming up to the base of a small cliffside, his search may have yielded fruit. He approached a large boulder, it was thin like a column, and was fairly flat on one side. On the flat side was a plethora of claw marks going downward, overlapping each other, grinding the stone down in some places. This wasn't just a territorial marking, they sharpen their claws here, a lot. Qrow was now put on edge, realizing he was now in a location where the alpha beowolves frequented. Would they be back here? And soon? He could not know for sure. It was not an unheard of strategy for huntsmen to deliberately give off negative emotions to attract grimm they were hunting, to more easily find them or set up traps. However for a pair of alphas of this size, of this maturity, it wouldn't serve much besides let them get the drop on him, which could be very dangerous in this scenario. Huntsmen are quickly trained to master their emotions; to never give off the negatives in order to camouflage themselves, or in unorthodox situations, deliberately bring them out for any reason one would need to attract grimm somewhere. As a huntsman they naturally prefer the camouflaged state, like tigers in the grass, it's much easier to surprise their prey; and depending on the grimm, that could be a much needed head start.

The huntsman took a breath, and focused to relax himself; his first mission after graduation has made him too excited, anxious, on edge. They would feed on this when they found him. He knelt down on the ground, removed his collapsed weapon from his back, and placed it horizontally in front of him, the blade facing his left. He straightened his back, closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly. He began to focus his aura, sensing the forest around him, its sounds, its smells, its creatures. The frozen wind blew over the landscape, whistling and making the trees and leaves sway ever so slightly. An owl quietly hoots in a tree a little ways away, a wolf howls in the distance, another can be heard growling and eating its dinner for this night. A bird or two chirps, not quite ready to sleep for the night as the sun has only just gone down. A stick snaps, originating from the cliff above and behind him, something can be barely heard treading ever so lightly past it. The steps become inaudible, whatever it is, it's close.

His aura jolts in alarm, and Qrow's eyes shot open, only milliseconds after can be heard a guttural bark and growl as something leaped from the cliff, intending to pounce him. He reacts instantly, pushing off from his legs into a somersault, grabbing his longsword, spinning around upon completion of his roll into a combat position, and extending his blade. It was at least one of the alpha beowolves, as deadly and bloodthirsty as expected. Bo's description of its height was not an exaggeration, it was a monster a little over ten feet, and that's a rough measurement when its knees are slightly bent, and it was a bit hunched over as standing beowolves tend to be. As opposed to a standard beowolf who appeared to be wearing a bone mask over its face and top of its snout, the alpha's bone mask had consumed a larger portion of its head, adding much of its lower jaw to it. This accentuated its terrifying fangs, which were as long as small knives on each. Its age had allowed it to grow a thicker, pitch black pelt, and along its entire body, bone like spikes and armor protruded. A number of long spikes on its elbow running along its arm could allow for a really nasty back swipe if he was caught in their path. Bone armor fragments made for makeshift pads on the knees and shoulders, and a single spike emerged out each of them; a jagged crystal like one out of each of the shoulders, and an upward curling one in each of the knees. A kind of rib cage wrapped around its torso to better protect its vital organs, assuming it had any. And most likely for intimidation value, a line of long spikes also ran down its spine. The most concerning feature was its claws on its paws and feet, after its maturity and likely countless hours of sharpening, the beowolf's claws were now more elongated and blade looking, about matching the length of its own huge paw; even one successful strike could do serious damage and perhaps penetrate his aura, he would have to be extremely cautious. The sun no longer granted its light upon the forest, and the partially cracked moon had took its place. To the untrained, they may as well have been blind in this darkness, but even with the dim moonlight, the huntsman could see everything he needed.

The alpha, immediately irritated it missed its easy kill, growls in frustration. It stared down Qrow and released a bloodcurdling roar that echoed throughout the forest, so much so, crows in the distance could be seen fleeing from their trees, and he could feel it vibrating through his bones.

"Showtime," he said confidently with his signature grin.

The beowolf, as if hearing its cue, broke into a run on all fours to reach him for its second attempt at tearing him apart; but he didn't move from his stance, his brow came down slightly in focus, and his grip on his weapon tightened. The grimm now only a couple meters away, stood back on its hind legs, winded its right arm, and went for a wide sweep aimed at Qrow's neck. He quickly ducked, easily dodging such a wide swing, slashing its side under its arm, and rolling away behind it; the alpha let out a short growl of pain, then came skidding to a halt realizing it overshot its mark. Its pelt was as thick as expected, even for Qrow's blade, this one was going to require some work. They faced each other again, but the beowolf had slowed down, stopped; it looked at its small wound beneath its right arm, slapped it with its paw a few times making large thud sounds, then grumbled in slight discomfort. The grimm was now in no hurry for its next attack, without breaking its stare from the huntsman, it began to walk on all fours to its right, in a counterclockwise circle from him; demonstrating its intelligence by analyzing its new kind of foe. Qrow did the same, strafing clockwise instead. His strength, especially with his longsword, was blocking and countering; this would do him well in this encounter. The alpha's size would lead it to make wider attacks, and longer openings, he would be utilizing as many as he could to maximize the damage on its tough exterior.

Qrow grew tired of waiting, he pulled a trigger towards the guard of his hilt, gears began to turn, and his blade tilted downward away from him. He pointed the now unobstructed shotgun barrels directly at the alpha, and pulled the trigger again, firing a buckshot dust cartridge to provoke it. The grimm quickly brought its arm up covering its face as a hail of dust pellets peppered its hide; the provocation worked, the alpha gave a short roar and charged. Qrow pushed the trigger back into place, the blade tilted back into its original longsword form, and he charged in a flash to meet the beowolf. The alpha preserving the first move, unleashes a flurry of attacks to quickly whittle down his defense; he skillfully blocks, deflects, and evades its blade like claws, slipping in various cuts in between them primarily on its arms and abdomen. The creature surprises him and throws in a punch at the end of its flurry, Qrow blocks the direct impact sending him flying backward, he slides along the slightly icy snow before stabbing his blade into the ground to brake himself; he pulls his blade back up toward the end of his slide, and returns to a combat position. The grimm stood stationary, putting its guard up during its wounded state; the huntsman goes on the offensive, and sprints towards it. Nearly reaching his target, his aura suddenly jolts him like a heartbeat, making him hesitate. He breaks off from his charge to stop, and quickly looks to his left, to see another massive beowolf flying at him from above, claws drawn to impale him. He brings his sword above his head in order to block the aerial attack, catches it, and deflects the creature over his head; the alpha seized the opportunity and pursued the opening, sending an underhand swing of its claw. He only barely manages to block that attack, but the force of a truck sends him flying away and upward, he grunts as he falls to the ground and tumbles, stopped as his body slams into a tree.

Qrow picks his weapon back up, and uses it as a support in a kneeling position. The other had arrived. Two twin alpha beowolves stood side by side, sharing a ten foot height, and sporting similar blade like claws. One was damaged, the other was fresh, both were ready and able to tear him apart. His composure cracked, his fearlessness wavered, he knew they could feel this. They reminded him of a strong pairing of huntsmen; the synergy, the strength, their sense of invincibility when together. The sight of them was a representation of everything grimm were not supposed to be, no this was not going to be easy.

The second alpha dashes towards the vulnerable looking huntsman, he reacted quickly and rolled away to create just a bit of distance to prepare himself. Coming up from the roll, his eyes widened in shock when he saw the beowolf was already on top of him rearing up for a swipe of its claws. Qrow rolled toward the attacking claw, and passed under it going behind a tree; the razors narrowly go above his head, cleanly slicing the tree at its trunk, the tree slips from its base and loudly crashes into the snow, shaking the ground. The grimm wastes no time and unleashes a flurry of attacks of his own, Qrow gets put on the defensive as he focuses on dodging and blocking all the attacks. After a successful dodge, he activates his shotguns, quickly firing a shot at close range into its chest, interrupting its onslaught and sending it backward. He quickly seizes the opportunity, and goes on the offensive. He unleashes a stream of attacks of his own, successfully putting the ferocious beowolf on the defensive. It dodged and deflected what it could, but had to block with its arm when it couldn't; it didn't matter how thick its pelt was, for that damage was still being done.

Qrow realized he was distracted and checked for the first alpha in his peripherals, but he reacted too late. The first, seizing its own opportunity, lunged at him to slice through him like the tree. He attempted to press the past the second, but it was only a partial success. Four claws brutally scratched across his back, instantly piercing his aura, drawing blood. He yelled in pain, evaded an incoming attack from the second beowolf rotating around it as he did so, but was only able to block its next. The force of blocking the direct hit sent him tumbling backwards again, painting the snow red as he did. He scrambled to his feet, knowing a single second of vulnerability could mean instant death. The twin alphas rushed him simultaneously for an attack, he stumbled and strafed backward, struggling to deflect and dodge four sets of razor sharp claws. He couldn't keep going like this, he jumped backward, simultaneously switching his blade to its ranged form, and fired an explosive shell between the grimm. One of them stumbled off to the side in a daze, while the other stumbled onto the ground dazed, he rushed back forward between them, going to slip in a strike as he did so, but the stun was not as effective as he hoped. The beowolf on the ground grabbed him as he passed, and raised him in the air, while the other claw came toward him to rip him in half. In an act of desperation, he pointed his weapon, still in its ranged form, at the beast's face and fired the explosive shell present in the other barrel at point blank range. Both the grimm and huntsman felt the full force and heat of the blast, the alpha recoiling and throwing him away as it did; he dropped face down into the snow once again, his blade landing beside him.

He was beginning to feel too weak to get back up, his aura only barely managing to protect him from the blast, was down once again. Qrow grunted painfully as he pulled himself up from the snow, he grabbed his weapon, shifted it back into its blade form, stabbed it into the ground and rested against it in a kneeling position for a breather. The alphas began to recover from their daze, and circled like vultures, staring and snarling as they positioned themselves to hunt the huntsman. Qrow taking advantage of the rest, began to slow his heavy breathing, not taking his eyes off the ground. The grimm both stopped on opposite sides of him, working in unison to entrap their prey. After a moment of everything being absolutely silent and still, the alphas lunge forward simultaneously and rush toward the young huntsman to finish him.

As the beasts were only meters away, he gritted his teeth and looked up. In a blink, the huntsman disappeared, and a pitch black crow took his place flying directly upward. The grimm skid to a halt as they try to keep from running into each other, they growl and snarl in confusion, dumbfounded as to where their prey vanished to. They look up to the night sky and they find it, Qrow blocked the moon still rising on upward momentum. As he did, he pulled the lever on his hilt, the blade curled and the hilt extended into a snath as it quickly transformed into its scythe form. Now beginning to fall, he held his scythe horizontally behind him; a look of anger and determination shows on his face, as he fell he began to spiral with his scythe in hand, descending in a whirl of death. The beowolves attempt to move, but are unable to escape him in time. The second alpha's right arm gets caught in the path, as the razor sharp blade makes contact, it effortlessly cuts through pelt and bone, severing the limb completely. The grimm howls in pain and pulls away grabbing its arm and retreating, the first attempted to react, but was blasted away when Qrow fired a shell from his shotgun in his weapon's scythe form. He pulled the lever once again, collapsing his scythe back into its sword form and pressed the attack on the one armed beowolf. It barely recovers in time to be able to defend itself, and attempts to go on the offensive. Its fast but singular attacks are easily deflected and dodged with only one set of claws to worry about now, the openings even easier to utilize. He quickly has the upperhand and presses his attack, the creature is quickly overwhelmed unable to defend itself with only one arm. With a surgical slice to the leg, the grimm falls to its knees; Qrow performs a pirouette rotating around to the beast's back, and drives his wide longsword through its heart.

He pushes off its back with his leg, pulling out his blade in the process. Its body quickly began to smoke as its body would go through the several hour process of evaporating, now only the more damaged alpha remained. The beowolf directs a roar at Qrow, ear blistering and vibrating supplemented by all its pain and fury. He pulls the lever on his hilt returning his weapon to its scythe form, and charges the remaining alpha; the alpha beowolf accepts his challenge, and charges as well to meet him. Qrow dodges its initial set of attacks, slipping in strikes as he did, inflicting deep cuts all over its body. As the grimm gets put on the defensive, he expertly twirls his scythe around his body, intricately inflicting a continuous stream of attacks upon it. The beast desperately sends a swipe of its claws to interrupt the attack, and he jumps backward to dodge. The young huntsman and the beowolf stare each other down, both aware that their next attack could be what ends it all; he takes a stance readying himself to launch forward, and the grimm takes a stance readying itself to pounce. As if it were an honorable duel, they dash for each other to make their final shot. Qrow ducks and weaves dodging a punch and claw swipe combo, on his weave his scythe swung for its leg, the alpha unable to dodge, loses the leg, severed with a clean cut. It falls to the ground on its paws and knees, the huntsman continuing his spin of the previous attack, lets out a warcry, and raises his scythe in an upward attack. It catches on the beowolf's neck, then effortlessly pulls through decapitating the creature, its head flies away before landing in the snow, its body slumps over falling flat, and a blood pool slowly began to form beneath it. The alpha beowolves were defeated.

Qrow panted deeply and hunched a bit in exhaustion. He was finished here and began to walk away, unable to stand his strength gives out and he falls to his hands and knees dropping his scythe beside him, then drops onto his back, grimacing in pain as his gashes are laid against the snow. He lays between the two grimm, on the white snow, in a cold winter night, and the still darkness, and falls asleep.

Some time later, he suddenly awakes, freezing and feeling beaten. He looks to his left and right, noticing the alphas' bodies had more than halfway evaporated, from the middle of their bodies outward. They smoked and disintegrated, giving off black embers as they did. A bit of sunlight had just begun to peek over the horizon, but it was still fairly dark. Qrow rose to his feet, collapsing his scythe into its sword form, then its collapsed form, and holstered it behind his back. He left the scene, backtracked to find the trail or road, and made his way back to Clive.


	4. The Huntsman: Part III

The sun had begun to rise over the sea's horizon, and begun to light the town. The morning was as quiet and routine as ever, a mother gathered water from the well, the blacksmith was getting an early start on a commission and was preparing his forge. Only when the huntsman could be seen in the distance, stumbling down the road from the North, was this peaceful morning disrupted. As he had arrived and inched his way into town, the atmosphere shifted, what was a quiet morning of everyone minding their business, became a morning of whispers and anticipation; as all the attention of the town was fixated as he passed through it. The whispers and stares all essentially said the same thing, "The huntsman's returned."

Qrow ignored them all equally, they'd get their answer soon enough. He made his way to The Clive Point Inn, eager to deliver the news and get his chance to get off his feet. When he arrived, he once again violently pushes the door open and it slams against the wall, telegraphing his presence to every person in the room. Every table stared at him for a moment, before pretending to return to their conversations.

"Stanley," he called out in a monotone voice.

Tawnie's sister who was manning the bar, leaned back aiming her voice to the hallway, "Pa, the huntsman's returned," she said, relaying his request for her father's presence.

After a moment, a door could be heard opening and closing, then the graying man coming around the corner; his face showing he was anxious for news from the huntsman, but trying to maintain his professionalism. He walked toward him, making a welcoming gesture with his hands.

"Mr. Branwen! You've returned! How did… do you bring news?" Stanley said in anxious anticipation and enthusiasm.

The dining hall began to quiet, as tables were secretly eavesdropping on their conversation, their own not nearly as interesting as to what they were waiting to hear. Qrow could tell everyone wanted to hear it, so he took the stage and projected across the inn.

"Two alpha beowolves set up their hunting ground in the Pearl Forest, just outside of Clive. They were extremely intelligent, they hunted those who wandered too far from the city and into the veil of the forest, including hunters, caravans, couriers, or just some poor bastard who got lost. The forest is littered with their kills, torn apart, eaten alive, in pieces…"

The audience's faces began to fill with dread at his vivid description of what has happened to their neighbors, friends, and family, but still fixated on him, waiting to hear the end.

"I have a theory that they wanted to whittle down your populace, slowly kill your fighters or anyone that could defend your town, so it would be even more defenseless against a grimm attack. Sew fear and paranoia into your hearts, attracting more grimm to the town, and possibly even leading to your destruction if someone didn't intervene. But, that's just my personal conspiracy theory, I have no evidence to suggest these alphas were planning anything that long term or complex. I tracked them down, to an area in the forest that may have been a den, or just somewhere they liked to frequent and sharpen their claws. I waited for them there, and they both ambushed me, it was a hard fight." Qrow turned his head towards the audience, unable to resist giving away a smirk, "And then I killed them."

The inn's face collectively lit up, a simultaneous cheer resonated across the hall, with raised mugs and smiles from the patrons. The ends of the tables closest to Qrow rose from their seats to quickly shake his hand and pat him on the back, he grimaced when they heartily smacked his recent wounds, but continued smiling proudly and returned their gestures.

Stanley quickly made his way to the door, "I should inform the herald!" he said, his day lifted by the good news.

Qrow focused on the innkeeper as he left, seeing if the herald was conveniently on the other side of the door, as he was eager to hear what compliments the innkeeper would relay to the herald to be heard across town. Counter to his theatrical imagination, Stanley turned left and headed down the road to the herald's home who hadn't yet awoken. Qrow was lightly disappointed by this, but was content with the celebratory attitude of the breakfast crowd. A nearby table towards the center of the mass, beckoned him to sit with them and share his tales and offered to buy him drinks. As always, he was happy to oblige.

Over an early mug of ale, Qrow made it clear he was no stranger to grandiose storytelling. His retelling of the night spared no details, besides the dull ones. He spoke of the cold and the eerie journey to the forest, of the gruesome and horrifying sights he saw of the slain, of how he followed their tracks meticulously to their "lair", how he waited for their return, and of course his favorite portion, of how he faced them in combat. Other groups had brought their drinks and gathered around him, entranced of the heroic story he told. His account of the battle described in detail the horrific and powerful nature of the beasts, and how he masterfully slayed them; all complete with his expressive narration, and even dramatic pauses. Stanley who had returned some time before he had reached the tale's end, was just as dazzled as the rest of the audience by his courage and heroism.

The innkeeper walked around the table to approach him directly, "Mr. Branwen, surely we must owe you payment for your work, you've saved many lives here huntsman."

"No," Qrow said, gesturing with his hand waving it side to side, "You don't owe me anything, it's not your responsibility to pay me. Hunting grimm and protecting you all from harm is my duty as a huntsman," he explained stoically.

Stanley smiled in surprise gratefully, shocked by such an act of selflessness and generosity. The people of Clive were quite accustomed to paying mercenaries frequently for their services, as they had no guards or fairly competent warriors in town to assist them in matters like these. Qrow's act of kindness would not go unnoticed by the rest of the town, as well as it would greatly impact their perception of the huntsmen as a whole.

"Mr. Branwen, I… can't tell you how much it means what you did, how much it means to everyone. And I won't let you leave unrewarded, would you be interested in a complementary dinner at the inn? I'll get all the kitchen staff together to make something great just for you, we'll make a celebration of it! How about it?"

Qrow considered his huntsman code for a moment before giving his answer, then giving a confirming smile, "I can accept that, all you had to say was free dinner."

Stanley smiled excitedly, "I'll get all the staff together to be ready for you right away! Why don't you return here at 6:00 for your dinner, then we can celebrate! Oh, and the drinks will be included too, of course."

Qrow stood from the bench, readying to make his leave, "Alright then, looking forward to it."

He left the inn, spending the rest of the day about the town. He made a stop at the blacksmith, requesting to stay at his workshop to do weapon maintenance. The blacksmith welcomed him to do so, happy to help a huntsman, and he would enjoy the company of a guest during his work. Qrow found a place to set up, and helped himself to the blacksmith's materials, beginning with cleaning his weapon. This was a lengthy process because of its size, the addition of firearms, a plethora of moving parts, a collapsing and curving blade, and an additional razor that stored itself; he picked up a silicone cloth and the appropriate cleaning oil and got to work. He spoke with the smith for quite a while about weapons, a topic they both could equally enjoy. The smith explained he was quite accustomed to making equipment for the hunters and the occasional mercenary, but his prized projects were the construction of armor and weapons for the youth of Clive who desired to go to Combat School. He would generally help them in its creation instead of making it outright, especially for students of Signal, the one Qrow attended. He enjoyed that instead of just making a standard firearm or blade, him and his client could get very creative with its construction, making something truly unique and powerful, something deep and complex, and something designed for its user perfectly; it was where he would dig truly deep for his inner artist, and instead of making a weapon, craft a piece of art.

Towards the end of the discussion, he finishes cleaning and moves on to the sharpening of the blade and internal razor. The blacksmith inquired on his sword, asking what it was capable of, and its specifications. Qrow avoided the topic and changed the subject, instead speaking of various weapons he witnessed during his time at Beacon. Despite his enjoyment of attention and grandiose storytelling, he was very careful to avoid speaking of details concerning his weapon and semblance. There was no need for anyone, especially strangers, to understand crucial elements of his weapon, or understand that his semblance exists at all. To do so could leave him vulnerable to those who would hunt him, if someone did enough digging in the right places, anyone could come up with enough information to prepare themselves for Qrow. Considering that both his weapon and his semblance often were his aces, if an enemy could counter that, it could leave little room for survival.

The sharpening of his blade was highly important to Qrow, the scythe's razor in particular. The main blade, which is mostly used in its sword form, gets reasonably sharpened for a huntsman's weapon, but not overdone; it keeps a balance between cutting power and defense, much like the purpose of the weapon in its sword form. The blade is often utilized for deflecting, parrying, and blocking as well as cutting, so having the blade as sharp as he would want it to be, would be very taxing on its edge. This was a large part of why he included the hidden razor as part of the design, the blade only revealed itself in its scythe form, and thus was not exposed to the same problems when Qrow didn't want it to. This allowed him to still have the cutting power needed to cleanly slice through the thickest of grimm pelt, chitin, and bone, but also have options for more general combat as well. Thus he always kept his scythe razor exceptionally sharp, earning its just title as _Qrow's Razor;_ something that only him and his team were aware of and understood quite well.

Eventually finished with his routine maintenance and quick mechanical checkup, he took his leave, thanking the blacksmith for the use of his workshop and friendly conversation. There was still quite some time left until the dinner and celebration, so he roamed the town for a while, seeing what the different stalls and small shops had to offer, took in the view of the cliffside, and when he found an adequate signal, sent a message from his scroll back to Vale reporting the mission success. Soon the sun fell, the shattered moon showed itself in the night sky, and it was about time to return to the inn.

"Aha! If it isn't our guest of honor!" the innkeeper greeted joyfully.

"Here he is," Qrow responded, pretending to be ceremonious.

"Tawnie, show Mr. Branwen to his table."

"Right this way," she says warmly gesturing with her hand.

She slowly walked by the young huntsman, looking at him curiously to see if he was going to follow. His signature smile and gaze were fixed upon hers, and as she passed he gave her a playful wink. Realizing she was staring, she glanced away flustered as her cheeks were lightly dyed pink, continuing to the table.

Already present patrons happily welcomed him, ready to join him in celebration. A large, clear table, that could easily accommodate six to eight people, awaited him toward the end of the hall. Tawnie showed him to his seat, which was replaced with a chair instead of the tavern bench, and dropped into it, slightly sliding against the wooden floor with a screech.

"I'll bring the chef so you two can discuss what you would like for your complimentary dinner," Tawnie explained with a smile as she left for the kitchen.

An odd silence hovered above Qrow, an uncomfortable empty space wrapped around him. He looked side to side, and amongst the rest of the diners with a raised eyebrow. He quickly snapped and spoke out to the crowd.

"You guys just gonna sit there? Come on, get over here, pull that bench over, I have more stories to tell."

It was exactly what everyone wanted to hear, a small number of tables full of patrons stood up and came closer to him, the nearest tables pulled the bench and chairs back from the walls and joined him at his table. _That's better,_ Qrow thought. Tawnie returned with the chef, and him and the guest of honor spoke briefly about what he would like for his complimentary dinner. Not thinking too long on it or feeling picky, he simply elected for a freshly hunted venison, the chef said he'd have it ready soon, then bowed and returned to the kitchen. Tawnie took the place of the chef, asking if the guest of honor would like anything to drink. Since the drinks were also complimentary, he intended to take full advantage of it. He requested a keg of beer, that he intended to share with those around him; a few grateful cheers could be heard amongst the tables in response. Tawnie not opposing his gesture, smiled in amusement at his generosity; even if it was the generosity of the house he was actually using. She brings back a comically large brown keg, clearly preparing for the number of people that were going to be using it, and a patron helps put it on top of the table, and it creaks slightly under the overwhelming weight. The surrounding patrons excitedly put their mugs under the spout and filled up like a raging crowd dying of thirst. One of the patrons, who appeared to be a hunter based upon his homemade fur cloak and hunting dagger strapped to his leg, stood up and raised his mug in the air.

"To the daring huntsman of Vale! May you hunt long and live long in your unending struggle against the Creatures of Grimm. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" the crowd responded happily, all taking a celebratory swig in the huntsman's honor.

From then on the night went on merrily, as Qrow told more tales to entertain and enthrall his audience; retelling the tale of the two alpha beowolves for those who weren't there to hear it the first time, and telling all tales they hadn't yet heard of missions carried out during his time at Beacon with his team. During that time his dinner came, delivered by the chef personally. Qrow was very pleased, it was just as extravagant and delicious as Stanley said it would be, and he intended to enjoy every moment of his gift. Over his meal he told more stories about different monsters him and his team hunted, from ursai, to king taijitus, and even the terrifying nevermores. Fascinating them with all manner of stories, his rhythm is broken when two children, a boy and girl, walk up to him and get his attention.

They wanted to thank him personally for saving Clive from the alpha beowolves, he was about to humbly accept their thanks, but they weren't finished. They explained how much it meant to them, as their father was a hunter, and never returned from a hunt and they were now orphaned; of how it put their minds at rest knowing their father was avenged. Qrow became paler when he heard this, his facial expression somewhat stunned, and only until now, did the circumstances he was in begin to overwhelm him. He never really considered how important his work was to other people, he now realized how truly disconnected he was with the people he had been helping and saving, for all these years. Every time he hunted a grimm, he either avenged a death, or prevented one; the death of someone's family, of someone's friend. The sudden awareness of his responsibility began to weigh heavy on him, and he thought of the feast he was partaking in. He began to think of how much this mission meant to the people of Clive, not just hearing it, but understanding it. He began to wonder why team STRQ never received such a gift, such recognition or appreciation. Perhaps it was due to the fact that it was a team that accomplished the goal, while here it was a lone hero. Maybe it was much easier to recognize the heroism of a single huntsman, than a unit of them.

Qrow attempted to mentally move on, get back to the enjoyable conversations and stories with his new friends. But despite the celebration, the fantastic dinner, or how much beer he drank, he could not return to his original mood; not with the revelation dropped upon him. He didn't feel as interested anymore, now he wanted to leave, he wanted to think, in silence. But despite what he wanted, he thought those around him deserved to have the huntsman around for a while longer; the celebration wasn't just for him, it was for them as well. Time went on, the night grew darker, men and some women laughed and exchanged tales of grimm and huntsmen, the keg emptied and another soon took its place. Time went on, and the crowd began to thin, new friends said their goodbyes and returned home, as the dining hall grew quieter, Tawnie's sister took her leave as her shift was over. Eventually the celebration had seemed to come to an end, and everyone returned home except those who were staying at the inn, and finally Qrow was alone at his complimentary table. He got his chance to think, to think in circles. _There's still some beer left in the keg,_ he thought sipping from his mug, _it'd be a shame if it went to waste._ He continued to think heavily, as he finished his mug, he realized someone had been trying to talk to him.

"Mr. Branwen? ...Qrow? Are you alright?" a feminine voice asked.

Qrow shook himself from his trance then responded, "Ah Tawnie, I'm fine. I was just… is something wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," she said as if not sure of her own answer, "It's just that you're the only one here now, and you've been sitting and drinking alone for a while. Just thought I'd check on you."

"It's fine, I was just enjoying the quiet. I haven't had a night to myself like this for… some time."

Tawnie smiled warmly, showing she was glad he was enjoying his peace, "Ok, I'll leave you with your thoughts then," she said bowing her head before walking away.

"Wait," Qrow called out.

She stopped and turned reflexively, seeing what was needed, but Qrow knew not what he needed. Perhaps as much as he liked the quiet, he didn't want to enjoy it alone, he wanted to talk to her. He grabbed a nearby mug and slid it across from him, and began to refill his mug from the spout on the keg.

"Have a drink with me."

"Oh, I can't, I'm still working," she explained softly.

"Oh come on, the keg isn't going to finish itself, I promise I won't tell Stanley," he said playfully, "Take a break, there's no one to serve."

Tawnie began to smile, finding it hard to resist the young huntsman's offer. Still smiling, she rolled her eyes and gently sat across from him. Qrow gave a pleased smile as he filled her mug for her, then steadily slid it back over to her. She picked it up with both hands, and gave an appreciative nod before taking a sip. They both looked at each other, not entirely sure what to talk about; Tawnie wondered if he would just be content with the silence.

"So," Qrow broke the silence, "I didn't catch your sister's name."

"Oh, her name is Hazel, she's a little, um…"

"Uptight?"

"I was trying to think of a nicer word, but uptight comes to mind," she answered gaily, amused by his guess.

"You always going to live around here?"

"I don't know, maybe. Perhaps someday I can go to Vale and see the big city, maybe even get to go to the Vytal Festival."

"You know, me and my team competed in the Vytal Festival Tournament," Qrow said, shamelessly taking another opportunity to impress her.

"Oh really? That's so cool! I've watched some of those tournament fights over the years on the TV, but I've always wanted to go in person. When did you compete? Did your team win?" she asked excitedly.

"Well, no. You can thank Summer for that, we still made it to the singles though, some of the best fights of my life before that. Summer is one of the most talented and skilled huntresses I've ever seen, however her unrivaled expertise on battling grimm, did not carry over very well to human combatants, or not well enough at least. The opposing teams didn't do what we did, and just choose what they thought were their most powerful members. They strategized a little better, chose their ideal candidate for fighting other huntsmen, not monsters. That was the downfall of our decision, we were blinded by her borderline supernatural ability to slay grimm, and assumed she could make short work of any opponent by herself."

Tawnie looked at him with fascination, easily entertained by his explanations.

"Eh, it probably didn't matter anyway." he continued, changing the tone. "Even if we picked myself or Raven, there was a chance we weren't going to win anyway. The strongest and most skilled huntsmen in training in all the four kingdoms, and the strongest of those who won the team rounds and doubles, those are pretty hard odds." he said before taking a sip from his mug.

They spent a few more minutes in leisurely conversation, at the very least in Qrow's mind, to finish the keg. Once the barrel had run dry, he was now well into his buzz. Like how he was no longer interested in the celebration, how he was no longer interested in being away from the quiet, he was now no longer interested in being anywhere but a bed.

"I think it's time I spent another night here, could I get a room again please?"

"Oh of course, I think after what you did, the least I could do is give you half off, I'm sure Pa won't mind."

"Which was…"

"17 lien now," she filled in.

Qrow pulled out his wallet, counted out 17 lien and handed it to her; a much smoother transaction than the night before. She took and recounted the amount, before slipping it into a pocket.

"Right this way, I can give you the room you had previously, if you'd like."

"Sure."

Led again around the bar, up the staircase, then down the left hall, they found themselves at the same door. She opened the door, the bed coming into view as it swung open. Qrow slowly walked in, but didn't begin to unwind yet.

"Let me know if there's anything you…" Tawnie gasped and covered her mouth, "Oh my."

Qrow turned his head around alarmed by her sudden reaction, trying to see what was wrong.

"Your shirt." she said pointing at his torn clothes.

He attempted to look over his back to get a better look, four tears ran parallel along his back, exposing his skin. He exhaled, relieved it was nothing, now understanding what her concern was.

"It wasn't a flawless victory," he emphasized.

Tawnie came closer to take a look, to examine his wounds, "Was the fight really like the stories you told?"

"No," he answered seriously, "They were horrifying, monstrous, deadly, and they had the advantage; there was a chance I wasn't going to make it back."

She gently touched his back, her soft hand carefully gliding over the cuts, "The cuts, they were deep but… they've already scarred over. I don't understand, this was barely a night ago."

"It's my aura," he explained, "It allows me to heal extremely quickly, but those lacerations were… deep. It'll still take some time for those scars to fade away, if I'm lucky just several days, if not, a couple weeks."

"That's… amazing," she said, not stopping herself from touching his back and scars.

Qrow smiled, not in the least bit displeased by her gentle hands, and turned his head over his shoulder, "You know. You could spend the night with me this time," he whispered suggestively.

Tawnie quickly removed her hand and her face flushed red, realizing the position she was in, "I… have work, have to man the counter… I shouldn't…"

The young huntsman couldn't resist the adorable innkeeper a moment longer. He took her soft hand and pulled her back, not letting her get away, pulling her into his embrace, then closing the door behind her. He held her tightly, and caringly; Tawnie did not struggle out of his embrace, but accepted it, and tightened the hug herself, feeling safe in his arms. Qrow slowly ran his hands down her long brown hair, it was soft and beautiful, and its waviness gave an almost fluffy volume. On a downstroke, his hand traveled through her hair, and caressed the small of her back. She let out a small gasp, just after she did, he used his other hand and gently pushed her chin up to his, and gently kissed her soft lips. But not a lustful kiss, Qrow kissed her compassionately, tenderly, made her feel safe. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she kissed back, slowly running her hands along his back as she tasted him. After a moment, they broke the kiss, and lightly panted; not from exertion, but from their own excitement. They slowly edged back towards the bed, then fell into it together, not loosening their embrace. Tawnie was terrified, and excited; anxious, and comfortable. Qrow gave a barrage of tender kisses along her neck, face, and lips, continuing to caress her slim body and sliding her clothes away.

She moaned in response, kissed him again, then lovingly whispered, "Qrow."


	5. The Huntsman: Part IV

The sun leisurely arose over the sea's horizon, sending a gentle sunlight through the window on the room. The brown haired girl stirred in the huntsman's bed, the warmth and brightness gently awakening her from her peaceful slumber. Without opening her eyes, she pulled the velvet covers back above her shoulders returning to warmth, then rolled to her side to nestle against her bedmate, but she wasn't able to find his warmth. She slowly opened her eyes to see his space lied empty, she looked around for a moment to find him, and saw him sitting at the end of the bed. He was shirtless, showing the scars on his back in all their glory, and languidly put his dress shoes upon his feet.

Qrow noticed her gently come awake, "Hey," he said softly. "It's going to be warmer today, looks like Spring is coming."

"Qrow," Tawnie said softly as she sat up, revealing her bare chest as the covers fell, and rubbed her eyes awake, "Are you leaving?"

"I will be."

"Where are you going?"

He paused for a moment before answering, "Another mission. Perimeter defense at Mountain Glenn this time, the sooner I get there, the better." he said stressing its importance.

"Will… will I ever see you again?" she asked wistfully.

It was a hard question, and he didn't like any answer he could give. He'd rather face the beowolves again, than have to face questions like that. He considered his answer as he donned his ripped shirt and buttoned it.

"Maybe, someday. But I hope it won't be because I have work to do here." he answered trying to make light of it.

He wasn't sure if his answer satisfied her, more likely nothing could. He was ready to leave save for his weapon, he looked at her one last time. Below her brown messy hair, her pretty face gave a very neutral expression; one would think she was feeling nothing, but her pained eyes told Qrow everything. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to kiss her goodbye, he wanted to taste her soft lips one last time before he left, maybe for good, but he couldn't. As much as he wanted to, he was just as afraid of the message that kiss could send. He couldn't kiss her, for her sake. He stood up, lifted his weapon from the edge of the bed and holstered it behind him, then tore himself away from her. He quietly opened the wooden door and took a step through it, but not before looking back and meeting her green eyes.

"Goodbye Tawnie," Qrow said, as he slowly shut the door behind him.

"Farewell…"


End file.
